Unexpected
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: You would never assume that you would be cuddling with, let alone dating Dana Cruz from that day on, because it’s just so unexpected. But the truth is, you’ve come to accept the unexpected, and you’re going to okay with it.


**A/N: This is my second Dana/Chase oneshot. Read and enjoy. Michael and Chase are talking via webcam. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own this show. I never have, and I never will**.

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**Unexpected**

"_I'm sorry, man. I just felt I had to tell you since Logan_ _didn't want to, but I'm sorry. Zoey's kind of seeing someone. And he's our new roommate. James…" _

_He closes his eyes, and sighs running a hand over them, and then opens them as he frowns slightly. Michael's face is one of worry, and suddenly Chase's bushy head is spinning with a million things. A million things are swarming through his head, and for once, he has no control of them. He has no control over his thoughts at all. _

_But Chase tries to suppress the ache in his chest that resembles his heart breaking in two._

"_Dude," Michael says, his eyes sympathetic for his best friend. "You're still my best friend, and Logan_ _misses you. He just won't admit it. The girls too…"_

"_Thanks, I guess," he replies, trying to smile. His eyes travel over the clock that says it's eleven fifteen, forty-five minutes to midnight. "Look man, I'm going to call it a night. You know, major test. My roomie has a stick up his butt anyway…"_

"_I heard that!" Colin's sharp tone rings out. _

"_Don't care!" _

_Michael says, "Okay, well, I have the munchies. So, I'm going to get some sushi. Stay strong. I know you have it in you, man. I'm sending a silent virtual high-five."_

"_Right back at you," Chase says, with a genuine smile, even though it's really small. Michael smiles, one last time as his goodbye and Chase signs off. _

_Zoey has a new boyfriend._

_That isn't him. _

_That's okay, because it's their mutual agreement to see other people, since dating five thousand miles away won't work. He hopes with every fibre of his body, that just maybe, they meet up in England and they could do all of those clichéd lovey dovey things couples do. Everything from holding her soft hands, and interlacing fingers to that kiss in the rain, which only happens in the movies._

_But it's okay, Chase, he tells himself even though he wants to just shrink and disappear._

_He slips under his covers, and closes his emerald orbs, and then re-opens them as they adjust to the darkness of his room in Covington. There's a nice wall, he'd like to bang his head against. In the recesses of his mind, Chase Matthews can only blame himself for waiting too long._

_**Stay strong, I know you have it in you,**_ _Michael's voice says in his head over and over. Good Michael. Good reassuring Michael. Good carefree Michael. Chase realizes that his conscience always takes on a Michael-esque version, while the human nature side of him – the side that causes him to push her away, always sounds like Logan, and it trips him out. __**Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay strong. I know you have it in you. **_

"_No, I don't," he says, with a sigh that sounds so shaky. He swallows the lump forming his throat, apprehensive that he'll release an upchuck. His stomach churns, incessantly. "No, I don't..."_

xxxxx

You assume that you will never see the tall, tanned girl sitting in front of you, ever.

You assume that she's in France, at some fancy school, being her hard-headed, stubborn self and she's resisting the efforts of some beret wearing guy named Pierre or Jacques. And it makes you think of that incessantly annoying Alouette song that your parents attempt to brainwash you with. So, imagine your mutual shock when you see each other.

But now you guys are best of friends, and you assume that you can pick up where you guys left off roughly two years ago. Everyone assumes that _she's_ your best friend, and your closest confidante, but it's the girl in front of you with a somewhat quizzical expression that holds that position. You know only her deepest thoughts and wishes. She trusts you, letting you in on all of the emotion that is usually held in her dark brown eyes. Only you see the real smiles that hide behind that stone barrier of hers.

It's only an assumption, you've come to painfully believe, that she will love you that you do – or did – you're so confused, and all of the possibilities are so jammed in your head, you feel it pulsate.

"She's got a boyfriend," you finally say to the girl in front of you, and still the effect of the sting still lingers. It's as if your heart has been shattered into all these little shards. You're apprehensive to pick them up, and at least attempt putting them back together, yet you really don't mind being cut. What's one more, right? After all, she's the reason you're halfway across the world. You can only imagine the guy that has walked – not crashed – into her life. He's probably better-looking, and way more graceful. The thought just makes you feel so insignificant and inferior at the moment, even with your old, and closest friend by your side right now, he's probably a better candidate for her heart too. You sigh, running a hand through your mop of hair. "I mean, I don't get it. I've been wrong about so many things I can't even count, and I was so sure. How can the one thing I've been so sure about be…_wrong_?"

"Like people naturally assumed I'd end up with Logan because we fought so much," she replies, tucking a lock of her straight hair. You remember it being curly, but you think it's better straight for some reason. Her eyes shine with a faraway look in them, as she's comfortable on your bed and you're okay on the computer chair. She then shrugs. "At one point, I did like Logan…"

"And what happened?"

She rolls her eyes, and it makes you smile a little because to you it never gets old. She's still her feisty, headstrong self. And really accept her for it, although she's not like that all the time. You discover on the beach, as you have a heart-to-heart with her that her heart isn't a block of ice at all, contrary to popular belief.

"He became _himself_. A man-whore," she replies, but she sighs, her face softening with a shadow of a smile touching her lips, as she brushes the bangs from her eyes. "…but we still talk. But I love it here. You know, I find it strange that Zoey went here, yet I didn't know. But when I see you on your first week, and it's like PCA all over again."

You can only nod in agreement. It's one of the hardest things you ever have to deal with it, and it's coming in a close second to your grandmother, who passes away on the day you were both born. Birthdays will never be the same for you, and neither will anything else. You're still completely depressed, and she smirks playfully at you, and moves over patting the spot next to her. You only smile back, climbing with her. And it's in a totally, completely platonic way.

She's got beautiful eyes, brown and mysterious. Even three years earlier, you realize that even though you are two entirely connected. No words have to be spoken between you. Silence is good enough, because with just one gaze directed, it's almost instant that you understand each other completely.

You assume you have that same connection with the girl that has your heart crushed in the palm of her petite hand. The thought just makes you sick, and want to break something. You want to rewind everything back to the time you see her. She captivates you. She catches you, and claims ownership to her heart, the very minute you have a collision with the school flagpole.

You assume a lot of things, without even thinking. But right now, at seven-thirty in the evening. It's eleven-thirty in the morning at PCA, and you can see it now. It feels like you're invisible, and she's probably forgotten about you. James must be a lucky guy to have _her_ fall for him so hard, and end up his girlfriend – the hand-holding, the loving gazes, the little kisses and hugs shared between them – and you're on the outside looking in.

A sinking feeling hits your stomach, as it's quiet. Your eyes are trained to your blanket, tracing the patterns with your finger. Yet, you feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you feel her tanned hand, on top on yours to stop your 'doodling'. It abruptly does.

"I don't know what to do," you admit, quietly. It sounds like you're going to cry. It sounds like you're going to break. Your voice is so low, so whisper quiet. You use your free hand to show her three fingers, signifying the amount of years you waited. It's self-induced heart break, you resolve, maybe. You don't want her to let go, because you like the warmth. It's quite a contrast to the cold you've been feeling. And it's not due to London's weather. No amount of sweaters can get rid of the sharp cold that falls on you. "Three years worth of lost sleep…"

You strangely like the warm feeling her hand gives you.

"Your hand's icy, Matthews…"

"Yeah, I know. And your hand's warm," you answer, honestly. "Sorry about that…"

She shrugs and you swear you feel the grip on your hand slightly tighten, "S'ok. But you know what? I'm almost glad I found you. And it sucks that you feel like you want to disappear or possibly die. I know I have. But shit happens. Life sucks, but you have to keep going. The world doesn't stop because of Zoey. Yours nor anyone else's."

And then she says something so shocking and confusing to you, as you raise an eyebrow. Her voice takes on an annoyed tone, "I knew she was going to hurt you even though you didn't deserve it, and then we became friends. I couldn't be mad at you because you were just a dude in love. But I've lost contact with Nicole, Quinn still IM's me from time to time, but I lost all contact with Zoey and it doesn't bug me. I didn't like her, so why talk to someone I don't like?"

"And yet you still talk to Logan," you reply, surprised that a genuine laugh has come from you. "When will we unwind that complex and intricate mind of yours, Ms. Cruz?"

She smirks, playing shoving you. She's let go of your hand, and you're warm. You're warm.

"The day you decide to get rid of that endless bush on your head," she shoots back, and smiles smugly. You know it's in good jest. "And me keeping contact with Logan is different. We're _frienemies_, you dork."

She sticks her tongue out at you, and playfully scoff.

"Yeah, _that's_ mature…"

"Says Mr. Compulsive Coffee Drinker!"

"Well, I'm cuttin' back!" you defend, with more laughter. You laugh, which in turn makes her smile, and you get to see the rare dimples that are in her cheeks. Everything is so unexpected. You assume you'd never be this close to her of all people. The clock is ticking, the only reminder the laughter has died, and time continues to push forward. You can hear a pin drop and you can hear the heart that is so troubled and disconnected now beats wildly against your ribcage.

You assume in accord with hers, even though she's so close to her that the smell of vanilla wafts past your nose, and you feel your breaths mingle with each other. You make this assumption but you're probably wrong.

You don't want to be hurt anymore. You really don't, you decide as your green eyes meet her brown eyes.

You make a lot of assumptions in your sixteen years of life, but you never think that her quite soft lips would be pressed against yours. You can taste watermelon mixed with peppermint. You're surrounded by the scent of vanilla, and it's like crack. It's weird and new, yet you're indulging in it. You're enjoying yourself, throwing caution – _and Zoey_ – to the London wind.

So, you kiss her back, as her hands comb through your "endless bush", as she calls it. Your hands rest on her slender lower back, and it strikes something new in you. You pull her close to you, needing to feel that warmth that radiates off of her, even though she has such a cold exterior. You find yourself, craving it.

Wanting it.

Her tongue mingles with yours, and in that instant, you feel something settle on the inside. You pull away slowly, and with her head against your chest, you know she's smirking that trademark smirk of hers. The one you haven't seen in two years.

"Chase?"

"Yeah?" you wrap your arms around her, and you're subconsciously gently running your hand through her hair. You swear you hear her let out a small sigh of contentment.

"Shut up, and just let's cuddle, okay?"

"Silence is cool with me…" is your only response.

You would never assume that you would be cuddling with, let alone dating Dana Cruz from that day on, because it's just so unexpected. But the truth is, you've come to accept the unexpected, and you're going to okay with it.

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**A/N: My second DC oneshot. It's been in my head for a while, and I'm glad, I got it out of my system. Frankly, I feel nothing but resentment for Zoey, and now feel she deserves nobody. She should grow up, and be one of those crazy cat ladies, and basically die alone. After all, it's her fault, Chase is stuck in England** **so one day while in my Creative Writing class, I was stewing over this angrily. **

**And the lightbulb went off, and I thought, "Why not say that Dana is no longer in France, but at Covington?" Thus, this story took root, and sank its claws into the story writing part of my brain. Once again, I've lost all respect for Zoey. I only wish a guy would chase me halfway across the world to date me…**

**I tried my best. Feedback would be nice to wake up to in the morning.**

**-Erika**

**PS. James Garrett doesn't equal Chase Matthews! JAMES IS NOT DRIPPIN' **


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